


An incident on Tolmesis

by R_R_Fox



Series: The Master and The Padawan [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Other, Prequel before the Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_R_Fox/pseuds/R_R_Fox
Summary: This work is part of a novel which will deal with the relationship of Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and then Obi-Wan Kenobi with Anakin Skywalker.  It will be about love, hate, and the special relationship between Master and Padawan.In this first chapter, we will learn about "the incident on Tolmesis", and how Qui-Gon Jinn got in trouble with the council, despite the best efforts of Obi-wan, setting up for the story of how Qui-Gon chose Obi-Wan, despite the fact that initally he couldn't stand him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My mother](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+mother).



… _And in those times when the Jedi still dwelt on Ossus, there arose among the Masters a question as to how the younglings should be trained._

_“For,” said Master Appaliunas, “in their earliest days they will follow their elders in all things, but when they come of age, they may stray from the path.”_

_Another Master, Master Xanthia-Ja asked, “How then, may they be kept from the [Dark]?”_

_Appaliunas answered, “Let us each take an apprentice, to be our own Padawan, and raise them up in knowledge and wisdom of the Force.  Love will bind them to the Force, if will cannot.”_

_“But will this love not be an attachment?” asked Master Kittum.  “Attachment is forbidden, as well you know, for your own pronouncements have said as much.”_

_But wise Appaliunas answered, “Attachment is forbidden, but love is not.  And this love will not be an accidental fleshly connection, like that of birth.  [Nor] will it be a shackle forged by earliest habit, in the manner of an unknowing infant to the one who raises [the youngling].  No, this love will be a spiritual one, chosen freely, when both are of matured mind and feeling.  Thus it will be perfect, as the [Light] is also perfect.”_

_“First you say one thing, then its opposite,” said Master Kittum.  “If this love can be pure, why not another?  Why not say, for instance, the love for a lover is pure as well, as it is freely chosen?”_

_And Appaliunas replied, “Have you not listened all this time?  Is not physical love the shadow of the [Dark]?  For fleshly love desires possession, and will not rest until its object is vanquished.  Let us not be afraid to love, but never physically, for flesh is nothing, spirit is all.”_

_To this Master Kittum had no reply.  The Masters spoke among themselves, each speaking their turn, but none had so wise an idea as that of Master Appaliunas._

_So the Masters then agreed it would be the custom among them.  And such it has always been, to the present day_.

                                                                                                                              Jedi Master La’ak Meilinx Commentaries on the First Histories

**Coruscant, 35 BBY**

In the gleam of the late day sunlight shone the Jedi Temple.  Rising above the neighboring buildings the ziggurat was severe in its simple austerity, the plain white stone representing well the purity of the Jedi Order.

At the top rose the central Sacred spire.  Surrounding this high tower there were four smaller spires.  Each of the five spires represented a path to enlightenment.  In one of the smaller spires, a turbolift quickly rose to the summit.  And in the glass walls of the turbolift could be seen two men.

The two men were Jedi; a Master and his Padawan.

The elder was exceptionally tall, broad of shoulder, and strongly muscled, but surprisingly graceful.  He was quite a bit older than his Padawan, for his long dark hair, pulled severely back from his face, was shot with silver and there were fine lines about his dark blue eyes.  His features were too strong and too irregular to be typically handsome, yet his face was more interesting and arresting than more conventionally attractive ones.  His dark blue eyes looked around him with a mixture of perceptive intelligence and humor, although at that moment he was very tired, closing his eyes as the turbolift ascended.

His companion, a Padawan by his tightly wound braid, was much younger and shorter of stature.  In his early twenties, he was slender in a way which suggested he was still more boy than man.  This was suggested, too, by the fairness of his hair and the curve of his cheeks.  His features were beautiful, exquisitely drawn, from his high white forehead to the definite cleft in his chin.  His eyes were blue, but rather than the dark and mysterious blue of his Master, they were bright and crystalline, devoid of secrets.  Their expression revealed a keen intellect, but also hinted he judged all he observed.  He was also tired, but rather than giving in to the fatigue, he was restless and edgy, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

His Master opened his eyes, and regarded him for a moment.

“What is it, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan Kenobi hesitated, uncomfortable with the question.

“Do you think they are displeased with us?” he finally let out.

As was often his habit, Qui-Gon Jinn answered a question with one of his own.  “What makes you think that?”

“They are summoning us immediately upon our return, instead of allowing us to report in the morning.”

Qui-Gon smiled a little, although he did his best not to make it obvious.  “Perhaps a better question is; _why_ do you think they would be displeased with us?  Our mission was successful.”

“Do I have permission to speak freely, Master?”

Qui-Gon looked upward in good-humored exasperation.  “Do you ever do otherwise?”

Obi-Wan ignored that remark.  “For one thing, when we landed on Kottabeion, we did not make an initial report to the Council.”

Qui-Gon shrugged.  “It did not seem practical, as there was little time before we had to make our contacts.”

Obi-Wan went on.  “And when we _did_ report to the Council, three days later, you neglected to mention some of the more dangerous aspects of our mission—”

“I thought being too particular might make them nervous.  Anything else?”

“I could not help but notice, but, when reporting the mission’s success, you implied freeing the miners was the result of your careful diplomacy, not the winning hand of six-point _sabacc_ you had against the Tyndareus.”

Laughing, Qui-Gon held up his hand.  “Enough! I get your point.”

“There is any number of reasons why the Jedi Council might be displeased with us.”

“Are you sure you do not mean displeased with _me_?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply, but as no words immediately came forth, his Master continued.  “Regardless, as you pointed out in such _careful_ detail, there may be one, or even two, particulars the Council could be… less than pleased with.  However, I can assure you, we are _not_ in trouble.”

“You sense this through the Force, Master?”

“No.”

Obi-Wan sighed.  _Why can’t he just tell me?_

Curiosity won out over irritation.  “How then?”

“When the Jedi Council wishes to rebuke a Master, they do so without the Padawan present.  You _should_ know this by now, since your studies have no doubt improved by the extensive time spent in the Jedi library waiting for me.

“But, they have summoned us to appear before them _together_.  As I am sure you are _un_ aware, Master and Padawan are both summoned when the _Padawan_ is being chastised.  But, as I cannot imagine _that_ happening, we are not in trouble… _this_ time.”

“But Master, you have to admit, some of your actions the Council has… questioned… are minor compared to what we did on Kottabeion.  For instance, there was that _incident_ on Tolmesis, with the Wookie and the Twi’lek dancing girl…”

“You are probably right.  But there is one difference between this mission and Tolmesis.”

“Being?”

“The Council doesn’t know about _this_ one.”

Before Obi-Wan could reply, the chirp of the turbolift, announcing their arrival, ended the conversation.

 

 

 

The Padawan followed his Master’s long strides towards the door of the Jedi Council.  As was often the case, the door opened for them without delay.

There, sitting in the circular chamber, sat Mace Windu and Yoda.  The other seats were empty; implying the matter for which they were summoned was a private one.  There was a tense silence between the Head of the Jedi Council and the wizened Jedi master, suggesting a heated discussion had been abruptly cut off.

Both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bowed low to the two Masters, waiting to be addressed.

“Qui-Gon, you have done well on your mission,” Mace Windu said, and then, after almost an imperceptible pause, added, “as usual.”  There was no secret Mace Windu disagreed with the unconventional methods of Qui-Gon, but it was equally well known Mace Windu was invariably fair.

“I thank you,” Qui-Gon replied.

Yoda added, “Very pleased with your report, we were.  When time you have, come to my youngling classes you will to discuss your negotiating strategies.”

“I would be honored, Master Yoda, to teach the finer points of diplomacy.”

But Yoda leaned forward, a gleam in his gray eyes as he shook his head.  “Bah!  Not diplomacy.  _Six-point sabacc_.  Talent along that line, I hear you have.”

Obi-Wan sucked in his breath, and stood as still as he could, determined to receive the coming reprimand without flinching.  _So much for them not knowing._

But Qui-Gon, for his part, merely smiled, and replied, with emphasis, “I assure you I have not lost any of the temple funds entrusted to me on this mission.”

Yoda snorted.  “Believe you I do.  Bet with temple funds you did not.”

Obi-Wan winced inwardly.  _This_ was the part he _really_ hoped Yoda would not find out about.

“If lost you had, give to the Tyndareus my gimmer stick you would not.”

“It was a sure thing.”

Yoda grunted in disapproval, but seemed to be fighting the impulse to smile.  Obi-Wan felt he could finally let out his breath.  They were not going to be severely chastised, after all.  _Do I always worry needlessly about such things?_   At this thought, Yoda gave him a significant look, but then went on.

“A new mission for you, we have.”  As Yoda spoke, Mace Windu studiously avoided looking at the ancient Jedi Master.  It was obvious Yoda wanted Qui-Gon for this mission, and Mace Windu, most decidedly, did not, which explained the tense silence between them.

Mace Windu began without preface.  “Are you aware of the conflict on Eutaktos?”

“Yes.”

Mace Windu wouldn’t have expected any other answer, as the conflict on Eutaktos, a clash between the religious caste and the aristocratic one, had been ongoing for centuries.

“It has recently become a great deal worse,” Mace Windu said.  “Although the Senate is doing its best to keep the details off the HoloNet, there have been recent threats, from both sides, to exterminate the other.”

“Not involved in the conflict will the Senate be,” added Yoda.

Qui-Gon nodded.  “That is wise.  Any attempt by outsiders to quell an escalation would only be viewed as imperialism, by both sides.”

“Yes, the Senate even offered to send diplomats to mediate.  The Eutaktosians refused.”

“What, then, is our mission?”

“Both sides have requested Jedi neutrality.  In particular, they have stated they would like a Jedi to bear witness, and hopefully prevent, any atrocities from the opposing faction.  This may be an opportunity to mitigate the hostilities.”

“We will do our best.”

“That is all we ask,” Mace Windu said, tersely.  He then added, “A ship is waiting for you in docking bay G-126.  It has been prepared for an immediate departure.  There will be a Holoreport in the ship’s computer documenting recent events, and listing necessary contacts.”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood there, waiting to be dismissed, but Mace Windu did not immediately release them.

Instead, looking straight at Qui-Gon, he added, with emphasis, “Since the matter is of extreme urgency, you must leave for Eutaktos as soon as possible.”

Obi-Wan shot his Master a significant look, for he understood Mace Windu’s implication.

Yet it seemed his usually perceptive Master did not, or at least chose to ignore it, for he amiably replied, “We will depart immediately.”

Mace Windu sighed, tiredly.

“ _And_ you must proceed immediately to Eutaktos.”

“Where else would we go?” Qui Gon asked, innocently.

Mace Windu stared directly into Qui Gon, with his hardest and sternest expression.  Qui Gon simply met his gaze, where any other Jedi would have had to look away, except for Yoda.

Obi-Wan stood uncomfortably, his eyes wandering around the room until finding safety in Yoda’s face, where he saw traces of a smile.  A smile completely antithetical to the voice of Mace Windu he was hearing.

“You must not get sidetracked.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow.  “Meaning?”

“Meaning you should not go on any of your… _adventures_.”

Obi-Wan was curious to see how his Master would respond, as truthfully, sometimes he agreed with Master Windu.

Qui-Gon merely bowed, and said, “I will do my best to fulfill our mission as quickly as possible.”

Which was not an answer at all.

Perhaps Mace Windu decided this discussion was pointless, for he dismissed them with a curt, “May the Force be with you.”

“With you, as well,” Qui-Gon said, bowing to both Masters and turning to leave the Council room, Obi-Wan following him.

 

 

 

The ship rose into the darkening Coruscant sky.  Obi-Wan was piloting, as was customary on such missions, for he had concentration and delicacy of hand not bettered by many professional pilots.

Qui-Gon, for his part, was sitting in the copilot’s chair, his cloak drawn about him.  His eyes were closed and his head rested on his chest.

“Would you like to make the calculations for the jump to light speed?  With all of these death stick addicts in the sky lanes, I need both hands for piloting,” Obi-Wan asked, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.  Though normally he would do both without complaint, he was tired, tense, and the traffic seemed worse than usual.

“No,” answered his Master, not bothering to open his eyes, “I have every confidence in your abilities.  And, in any case, I need to meditate on the mission ahead.”

_Meditation?  He wants to sleep_ , Obi-Wan thought, irritated.  He blew out his breath, silently.  He continued to pilot in an irritable silence, while simultaneously calculating the hyperdrive coordinates for Eutaktos.  All the while giving disapproving looks at his oblivious Master.

Before long, Obi-Wan realized Qui-Gon had indeed fallen asleep.  _At least he’s not snoring._

A light Calamarian skiff passed them very close on the starboard side, and it was only with a deft motion of Obi-Wan’s hands that saved them a collision.

“This is why I _hate_ flying,” Obi-Wan muttered.

The swerve of the ship caused Qui-Gon to slump further back in his chair, resulting in a persistent snore.

Obi-Wan had had enough.  He pressed a sequence of keys on the panel in front of him.  A shrill klaxon sounded inside the ship while the overhead panels dropped breathing gear into their laps.

Qui-Gon sat up suddenly, opening his eyes.  “Huh!?”

“A sudden decompression drill, Master,” Obi-Wan said innocently.  “We are supposed to run the drill every six months, and we are _very_ overdue.”  Obi-Wan quickly put on his mask, and gestured to the untouched gear still in Qui-Gon’s lap.  Qui-Gon ignored him, and the gear.

“How very… _conscientious_ of you,” Qui-Gon said.  He almost, but not quite, hid his irritation.

Obi-Wan pressed the sequence to terminate the alarm, which abruptly stopped.  When the skylanes in front opened for a moment, Obi-Wan quickly tossed the gear into the sterilization compartment.

“Now that you are finished… meditating, perhaps you wish to discuss our initial landing report?”

Qui-Gon frowned.  “You know I never submit a landing report.”

“As this mission is extremely delicate in nature, I thought we might want to follow standard procedures.  Since our estimated travel time is approximately three and a half hours, the Jedi Council will be expecting a report in five hours—”

“That long?”

Sarcasm in such matters was wasted on Obi-Wan.  “And within twelve hours, we will be expected to make the assigned contacts within the nobility, as outlined in Master Windu’s Holoreport—”

“Which I am _sure_ you have committed to memory,” Qui-Gon said, rolling his eyes.  He was then struck with a sudden thought.  “Hold _on_ a moment.  When did you have _time_ to watch that Holoreport, anyway?”

“I analyzed it while we were walking to the docking bay.”

“But it was stored in the ship’s computer.  How did _you_ have a copy?”

“I downloaded it to my datapad as we rode back down the turbolift, of course.”

“Of… _course_ ,” Qui-Gon agreed, in stunned disbelief.

“Well, _one_ of us has to watch it,” Obi-Wan said, impatiently.  He then continued, as if there hadn’t been a digression.  “And then, within one day, we will have to establish the meeting time with the religious caste, and then we will have to make another detailed report to the Council, outlining both our progress and our projected meeting times.

“Also, at that point, when we have determined what the major issues of contention are, we can then outline possible solutions.  _I_ think it would be better if we had the Council’s approval prior to actually making formal suggestions to the Eutaktosians, so that would probably necessitate another report.  Although as that is not official Jedi policy, this would be up to you.”

After this barrage of words, Obi-Wan stopped and looked at his Master expectantly.

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, for once, speechless.  Obi-Wan noted, to his satisfaction, his Master no longer looked like he wanted to sleep.

After a moment, his Master nodded, thoughtfully.  “An excellent plan.  It is unfortunate we will not be able to carry it out.”

“What-?!”

Qui-Gon paused for dramatic effect, throwing his head back and placing a hand to his forehead.  He was not smiling, but his dark blue eyes gleamed with a hint of sly humor.  “I sense a great disturbance in the Force,” he said, mysteriously.  “We cannot proceed directly to Eutaktos.”

Obi-Wan’s reaction was not one his Master expected.  Instead of making his usual protest, he abruptly turned to the hyperdrive computer to key in new calculations.

“Yes, Master, I now sense it as well,” Obi-Wan replied, solemnly, as his hands swiftly entered new coordinates into the main computer.  “We will have to proceed immediately to where the Force is leading us, before our assigned mission.”

His Master looked at him for a long moment, his expression a strange one, for it was caught between irritation and amusement.  It seemed amusement won out, for after a moment Qui-Gon reclined back into his seat, a smile on his face.  “Let us proceed there immediately, then,” he said, making a great show of making himself comfortable.

_I’ve done it now_ , thought Obi-Wan in frustration.  _I can’t believe he called my bluff_.  “I should’ve known better, especially after watching you play six-point sabacc,” Obi-Wan mumbled, miserably.

“What did you say, Padawan?”

“Nothing.”  Obi-Wan’s hands hesitated over the hyperdrive activator.  He had keyed in random coordinates.  The computer indicated the programmed route would be a lightly traveled one, but not untested.  Nothing was indicated about the destination.

_I should just admit he’s won_ , thought Obi-Wan, in disgust.  _He knows it anyway_.

He was just about to open his mouth to grudgingly admit it, but then his Master spoke.

“Any problems with the coordinates, Obi-Wan?” asked Qui-Gon, with a hint of a knowing smile.

That did it.

“ _No_ ,” said Obi-Wan, decisively pulling the switch to start the hyperdrive.

It was almost worth the look of surprise on his Master’s face.

Almost, because he could just imagine what Mace Windu’s reaction would be.  Obi-Wan had never been in trouble with the Jedi Council before, but he had a strong suspicion that was about to change.

_Hopefully he’ll soon tell me to turn around_ , Obi-Wan thought, anxiously.

He was wrong.

“I hope you have not planned any additional drills, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, leaning back and closing his eyes again.

“Not if it would disturb your… meditations.”

“Good,” Qui-Gon said, smiling.

_He’s pleased with me_ , Obi-Wan thought.  _Sometimes I think I will never understand him._

 

 

 

When the hyperdrive counter finally went down to zero, Obi-Wan deactivated it, and surveyed their surroundings.

_It could be worse_ , Obi-Wan thought.  _We could have emerged around some forsaken desert planet ruled by the Hutts_.  Instead, they were near a beautiful blue-green planet, shimmering in the darkness of space.  It was no world Obi-Wan recognized.

“The planet Chaodes,” offered Qui-Gon.

“I do not recognize the name.”

“Nor do I,” replied his Master, indicating a screen by his elbow.  “I found it in the computer.”

Qui-Gon then lapsed into silence, staring at the planet below.

Obi-Wan had to yield.  His Master may not have been overly concerned with disobeying the Council, but _he_ was.  “Master, I can’t do this anymore.  You win.  Let us continue with our mission, immediately,” Obi-Wan tersely said, turning to the hyperdrive to once again key in the coordinates for Eutaktos.

Qui-Gon caught his hand.  He continued to thoughtfully regard this foreign world, saying nothing.

“Master,” protested Obi-Wan, impatiently.  “What is it?”

Qui-Gon’s eyes met his own.  “The Force _has_ guided us here. Someone… something… down there needs our help.”

Obi-Wan shook his head in exasperation.  “Master, it was perhaps _slightly_ amusing the first time, but enough is enough.  We really need to—”

“ _No_ ,” insisted Qui-Gon, his face grave.  “We must go down to the planet’s surface.  We are needed there.”

To Obi-Wan’s shock and dismay, he realized his Master was serious.

_So much for not going on any adventures_.

He sighed, “I’ll begin the landing sequence.”

 

 

 

It was three standard days and Mace Windu had not yet received a landing report from Qui-Gon, or _any_ report for that matter.  And although, as the Head of the Jedi Council, he could not officially communicate with either side of the Eutaktosian conflict, he did have _un_ official channels of communication.  But he had heard nothing of Qui Gon from these channels, either.  _Nothing_.

Hearing Mace Windu mumble something about eccentric Jedi Masters, Adi Gallia consoled him, “It could be worse.”

“How could it possibly be _worse_?” Mace Windu asked, exasperated.  He had been avoiding Chancellor Valorum, lest he face embarrassing questions about Qui-Gon’s progress.

Adi Gallia’s blue eyes were bright, with hidden laughter.  “You could have been informed of his situation by seeing him on the evening HoloNet, along with billions of other viewers.”

Mace Windu gratefully agreed, “I don’t think I could go through that… _again_.”

Before Adi Gallia could reply, Yoda had entered the doorway of the Council chamber, in some contained but palpable excitement.

“Believe you will not, who on the HoloNet I saw!”

Mace Windu could guess.  _“Qui-Gon Jinn!”_

As if he had been summoned by incantation, Qui-Gon’s image flickered into focus on the chamber’s holodisc.  It was, of course, a coincidence, but Mace Windu blinked in surprise.

Without so much as a greeting, Mace Windu snapped, “Qui-Gon, what is the situation on Eutaktos?”

“I do not know.”

Mace Windu thought the audio on the holodisc was distorted.  “Did you just say you _do not know_?”

“Yes,” agreed Qui-Gon, without offering further explanation.

It was proper etiquette for Jedi to give complete answers to questions asked by the Head of the Jedi Order.  Normally Mace Windu was a master of patience, and would wait for the Jedi in question to answer completely.  But, in certain circumstances, or more correctly, with a certain _person_ …

“How can you _not_ know what is happening on Eutaktos?”

“I am not there.”

“WHERE ARE YOU?” Mace Windu demanded, louder than he intended.

“The planet Chaodes.  There was a situation—”

“What situation would demand you neglect your mission?”

“The sentients native to Chaodes, the Iskai, were going to be annihilated by recent human colonists.”

Mace Windu was somewhat appeased by the seriousness of what he was hearing.  “And were you able to intervene?” he asked, a little calmer now.

“Most satisfactorily.  The colonists have agreed to leave the Iskai unmolested.”

Adi Gallia had been searching for information in the computer before her.  She tapped Mace Windu on the shoulder, a puzzled expression on her face, indicating the data on the screen.

Mace Windu scanned it quickly, and then looked back at Qui-Gon.

“Qui-Gon, there are no native sentients on the planet Chaodes.”

“The Iskai are quite sentient,” Qui-Gon replied, slightly indignantly.

Mace Windu was silent for a moment, as he examined the data more carefully.

“But the data doesn’t mention _any_ animal species called the Iskai.”

“They are not animals,” Qui-Gon corrected.

“I did not mean to slight their sentience.”

“They more closely resemble slime mold, actually.”

Mace Windu could not reply for a moment.

“Master Qui-Gon.  We need you to please be serious.  Are you suggesting you were conversing with a species which has no capabilities for speech or movement?”

“No.”

Mace Windu let out his breath.  Perhaps he had misunderstood.

“They communicate telepathically through the Force,” added Qui-Gon helpfully.

Mace Windu looked at Qui-Gon for a long moment, speechless in his indignation.  Qui-Gon had specifically ignored his instructions, neglected a serious galactic crisis, to communicate with MOLD.  And he didn’t even have the good manners to look _embarrassed_.

Mace Windu observed Obi-Wan in the background, looking extremely uncomfortable.  _He’s too respectful of his Master to make it obvious, but it’s clear where **his** sympathies lie._  Mace Windu chose to address the Jedi who appeared to still be in possession of his sanity.  “Obi-Wan, are you able to communicate with this… life form?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, regretfully.  “No, Master.  It seems I have not yet reached that level of mastery of the Living Force.”

Mace Windu then looked quickly to Qui-Gon, wondering if this whole conversation was a practical joke after all.

Yoda, who had been assiduously observing Obi-Wan, then asked, “Obi-Wan, how end up on this planet did you?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, becoming even more uncomfortable than before, and began to stammer a reply.  “We… that is, _I_ —”

“Obi-Wan, guided by the Living Force, took it upon himself to change the hyperspace calculations,” Qui-Gon said, quickly cutting him off while putting his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders.  His smile was one of pride.

Mace Windu was at the end of his patience.  “ _Master_ Qui-Gon, I do not have time for your _ridiculous_ jokes.  We will continue this discussion of **_your_** disobeying the Council’s orders upon your return to Coruscant.  You are to depart _immediately_ for Eutaktos.”  After this last order, Mace Windu promptly broke the connection.

 

 

 

As Mace Windu’s image faded, Qui-Gon said dryly, “That went well.”

Qui-Gon expected a surly comment from his Padawan, but none was forthcoming.  After a moment, he turned to face Obi-Wan.  Qui-Gon could see his Padawan was upset by the conversation, despite Obi-Wan’s usual attempt to remain calm and composed.

“What is it, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, but then said, “It is nothing you need to be concerned with, Master.”

Qui-Gon smiled.  “Because I told him this adventure was at _your_ instigation?  I could not resist.  But do not worry; he obviously does not believe you capable of any misbehavior.  Despite my best efforts at reforming you.”

Obi-Wan was not amused.  He slowly shook his head.  “That is not it, Master.  I cannot have you chastised for my actions.  I will speak to Master Windu promptly upon our return, and explain what you said to him was the truth.”

“You will do nothing of the kind.”

“I _will_ take responsibility for my actions.”

“But there is a reputation to be protected.”

“I do _not_ want a reputation I have not justly earned.”

“Not yours.  _Mine_.  We cannot disappoint Master Windu.”

Surprised, Obi-Wan finally let out a laugh.

Qui-Gon smiled with pleasure to see his Padawan laugh.  He then placed his hand, lightly, on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.  His voice was soft.  “It is the responsibility of the Master to protect the Padawan.  And above that, I _want_ to protect you.  So let me.”

Obi-Wan said nothing in reply.  But he gave Qui-Gon a shy smile, before looking away.

After a moment of companionable silence, Obi-Wan felt compelled to say something.  He gestured to the HoloTransmitter, still sitting before them in the spaceport’s communication chamber.  “Master?  Incidentally, do you think _this_ time we were able to report to the Council before they saw us on the HoloNet?”  His face was innocent, but there was a suggestion of mischief in his eyes.

“I suppose so,” shrugged Qui-Gon, “since Master Windu _was_ surprised we were not on Eutaktos.”

“Yes,” agreed Obi-Wan.  He then added, “But by now, you’d think he’d be more surprised if we _were_ on Eutaktos.”

Qui-Gon shot him a look, making a great effort to seem stern.  “Whatever happened to my respectful Padawan?” he asked, gravely.

“You have trained me far too well,” replied Obi-Wan, solemnly.

Qui-Gon finally laughed, throwing his head back.  Whenever Qui-Gon laughed, he was young, for he laughed like a child, without restraint and utterly unselfconscious.  Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile whenever his Master laughed.

But suddenly, Qui-Gon stopped laughing.  He turned to Obi-Wan, his expression gravely serious.  He grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm urgently.  “We must return to the ship.  _Immediately_!”

Obi-Wan prepared to draw on the Force for a Jedi speed sprint back to their ship.  “What do you sense, Master?”

“Nothing.  _But we are very late getting to Eutaktos_!”  Qui-Gon struggled to keep his face composed.

Obi-Wan shook his head in disgust, but he laughed.

Qui-Gon then clapped Obi-Wan on the back, and added, “Seriously, we do need to return to the ship as soon as possible.”

Obi-Wan snorted, incredulously, “ _Now_ you are worried about being behind schedule?”

“No.  But Master Windu _is_.  And did you see his face on the Holo?  We have to have _some_ sympathy for him.”

 

 

 

A voice came over the com, guttural clicks and whistles.  And without waiting for a reply, the communication ended.

Qui-Gon translated for Obi-Wan, “Your ship is cleared to dock in the Main Hangar Bay.  Prepare your ship to be boarded and searched before you will be allowed to enter the city.”

“Not very friendly, are they?” Obi-Wan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Qui-Gon shrugged, “A people on the verge of war are not looking to make friends.”  He stretched out his long legs.  “How long until we dock?”

“Less than one hour,” answered Obi-Wan.  He looked up and regarded his Master.  Qui-Gon was looking out the window, seemingly unconcerned with the mission ahead.

It was a feeling Obi-Wan did not share.  “Master, would you care to discuss how we will proceed with the mission, now that we are behind schedule?”

“Due to _your_ detour.”

“Master!” protested Obi-Wan, embarrassed.

But Qui-Gon was smiling.  “Actually, from my point of view, we’re right on time.”

Obi-Wan wrinkled his forehead in puzzlement.  “But according to Master Windu’s schedule, we are three days late in making our initial contacts.  We are very late.”

“Assuming this issue is a complicated one.  But I suspect this matter is rather simple.”

Obi-Wan trusted his Master’s understanding of situations, but he could not keep the incredulity from his voice.  “How can a major conflict involving millions of individuals be _simple_?”

“What is this conflict about?”

“The conflict began five hundred years ago, with the ascension of the head of the _Hamothi_ clan as supreme ruler, or _Anáx_ , of Eutaktos.  The reign was contested—”

“No, I don’t mean what _happened_.  I asked you what the conflict is _about_ ,” Qui-Gon interrupted.

Obi-Wan paused, unsure what his Master was asking, then ventured, “According to the reports, the latest outbreak of violence started when both the _Anáx_ and the High Priest, or _Skiridai_ , claimed the honor of _Lagetas_ during their festival of _Areos_ , or rebirth.  This honor entails leading the ritual procession into the temple while bearing the insignia of their highest god.  As the festival of _Areos_ occurs only once every 246 of their years, the honor is deemed of extreme importance.”

“And what does that tell you?”

“That this conflict is without meaning.”

Qui-Gon shook his head.  “I disagree.  This conflict is all _about_ meaning.”

“I do not understand.”

“The meaning of symbols and what they signify.  For example, as you mentioned, this latest escalation started with a dispute over who would lead the procession into the temple, the _Skiridai_ or the _Anáx_.  It is obvious it is not just a religious matter, but represents the relative power and influence of the castes.

“But, in reality, symbols have no intrinsic power in themselves, only what is given to them by others.  If we could change the meaning of these symbols, there would be no reason to go to war over them.”

Obi-Wan nodded, impressed by his Master’s understanding.  “But how will we do that?”

Qui-Gon smiled ruefully. “I do not know,” he admitted.  “But we have under an hour to figure it out.”

Obi-Wan sat for a moment, his hands hesitating over the main drive controls, a furrow between his brows.  His clear blue eyes appeared unseeing, as his thought process was entirely inwardly focused.  Qui-Gon saw, to his satisfaction, his Padawan’s logical mind was analyzing the problem and considering it from several different angles, all the while calculating possible solutions.

After a few minutes, Obi-Wan spoke.  “I think,” he said, slowly, “I have an idea that _might_ work.”

“Go on.”

“Perhaps we could simply divide up the symbolic power between the castes.  Both leaders want to lead the procession, and both leaders want to bear the image of their highest god.  Why not convince the Eutaktosians it is the privilege of the aristocracy to be first in the procession, and the privilege of the priesthood to bear the image of their god?

“If each caste has its own symbolic power, the aristocracy to lead the people, and the priesthood to have the authority of their gods, perhaps there would be nothing left to fight over.”

“An excellent approach.”  Qui-Gon looked at his Padawan in admiration.  “And we still have a good forty minutes before we dock.”  He paused.  “Care for a hand of _sabacc_?”

“No.”

 

 

 

“Did Qui-Gon’s transmission indicate anything as to the situation on Eutaktos?” asked Adi Gallia, taking her seat.

“It stated we would be witnessing a meeting between the two castes,” replied Mace Windu, not adding he knew little else.  Before this morning, the only information he received from Qui-Gon had been a terse transmission stating he had made contact with both sides.  That had been two weeks ago.

“If anyone can heal this breach, Qui-Gon can,” stated Yarel Poof, serenely, inclining his long neck.  “I am sure it will be good news.”

“If it was bad news, I am sure we would have heard about it on the HoloNet by now.  Especially with all of those reporters always trying to tail Qui-Gon,” snorted Plo Koon, in his usual blunt way, his voice reverberating through his breath mask.

“ _Don’t_ remind me,” grimaced Mace Windu.

The conversation was abruptly terminated when the bluish hologram image glowed from the holodisc.

For a moment, Mace Windu could not understand what he was seeing.  Instead of a formal meeting between the two castes, perhaps engaged in diplomatic discussion, Mace Windu saw Eutaktosians freely mingling about what looked like a feasting hall.  There was a horrible loud screeching noise coming from the audio on the disc, and it took a moment for Mace Windu to realize it was Eutaktosian music.

“I can’t believe it,” exclaimed Mace Windu.  “It’s a _party_.”

Platters of various delicacies were being served to the tables, along with several large jugs of an unidentified beverage.  The Eutaktosians were slapping each other on the back, evidently toasting each other’s health, and then taking deep gulps.  Several high-caste Eutaktosians had already enjoyed this beverage to a great extent, for many were slumped in their chairs or even on the floor.

In the center of this, of course, was Qui-Gon.

He was sitting on the dais between the _Anáx_ and the _Skiridai_ , with a large jug between the three of them.  Obi-Wan, also given a place of honor on the dais, was sitting up in his chair, his arms folded over his chest in disapproval.  Qui-Gon refilled three of the goblets on the table, while the fourth, apparently untouched, did not need a refill.  Qui-Gon said a toast in their guttural language before tossing back his drink.  The _Skiridai_ and the _Anáx_ both chimed in agreement before they drank.  It seemed it was not the first drink for any of them, particularly the _Anáx_ , for his yellow eyes, on their protuberant stalks, rolled alarmingly.  Obi-Wan, of course, did not even lift his drink.

“Qui-Gon!” shouted Mace Windu, over the loud music.

Qui-Gon smiled, “Master Windu!  It is time to begin.”

“Time to begin what?”

“Our celebration,” stated Qui-Gon.  He was already refilling the three goblets in front of himself and the two Eutaktosians.

“Qui-Gon, are you intoxicated?  What are you drinking?” demanded Mace Windu.

“The Eutaktosians make a celebratory drink called _methú_ which has… interesting properties, even in humans.  They make it from a mold that grows during the rainy season.”

“Mold,” repeated Mace Windu, not amused.  _Mold again_.  “I don’t suppose you had to rescue this mold as well?” he asked sarcastically.

“No.  But I did try and contact it through the Force before drinking.”  Qui-Gon was still smiling, so it was impossible to know if he was serious or not.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mace Windu saw Yoda’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.  Mace Windu diligently ignored him.  “And has Obi-Wan been drinking?”

“Obi-Wan has already been reprimanded for his actions tonight.  He has not had a single drink.

“In any event, we are drinking _methú_ because it is a night of celebration.  They have ceased hostilities and are about to swear the oath of _akalos_ , or eternal kinship.”

Mace Windu shook his head.  Qui-Gon had only been there two weeks, and this conflict was centuries old.  It was impossible.

But almost to disprove this thought, the _Anáx_ and _Skiridai_ raised their goblets to one another, and it was obvious their relations were now anything but hostile.

“I can’t believe it,” Mace Windu murmured, mostly to himself.

“If it was anyone other than Qui-Gon, I wouldn’t believe it either,” agreed Adi Gallia.

 

 

 

Qui-Gon turned away from the Holo projection of the Jedi Council to watch the ceremony about to begin.  There was an abrupt stop to the music, and the assembly fell silent.  Then the insistent beat of drums began, along with the piercing sound of a flute.  A young Eutaktosian female, with silvery _adamas_ gems hanging from clasps in her nostrils and lips, and a headdress showing she was of the priestly caste, came forward.  Along with her came two young males, who bore between them a large cauldron.  It was of a golden metal, and had no decorations other than the squiggly script of the Eutaktosian language, which was engraved over every surface.

The young female poured the blackish _methú_ into the cauldron, and indicated for the two young males to bring it forward to the _Anáx_ and _Skiridai_.  The two leaders managed to stand on unsteady lower limbs, and bowed before the assembly.

Then, with solemnity, both leaders spat into the cauldron.

The Eutaktosians sounded their approval, both vocally and by banging on their tables.  The volume grew as the leaders dipped their goblets into the cauldron, filled them to the brim, and quickly drank.

The female said something in their harsh language, and Qui-Gon translated softly for the Jedi watching via the Holo projection.  “They are now adopted brothers.  Oh, and now this young female, the _Skiridai_ ’s daughter, will become the _Anáx_ ’s fifty-second, or fifty-third, wife.   I don’t remember which.”

“That is the _entire_ ceremony?” asked Adi Gallia.

Qui-Gon shrugged, “Well, now they drink.”

As if to prove his point, the youths moved among all the assembled Eutaktosians, refilling their goblets from the cauldron, so all could share in the honor of the ceremony.  Within a few minutes, all the goblets had been refilled, leaving those on the dais for last.

When the youths came to Obi-Wan’s goblet, they spilled out the untouched beverage, while giving Obi-Wan a disapproving look.  They then refilled it with the _methú_ blessed with the spittle of the leaders.  Once the goblets on the dais had all been refilled, the young female signaled for the entire assembly to rise.

The _Anáx_ and _Skiridai_ raised their goblets, shouted, “ _Akalos!_ ” and the entire assembly drank with their leaders.

Qui-Gon threw back his goblet and drank with gusto worthy of the Eutaktosians themselves, while watching his young Padawan out of the corner of his eye.  The goblet could not hide the expression of amusement on Qui-Gon’s face.

Obi-Wan held his drink, looking down into his goblet at the oily _methú_.  He quickly weighed the consequences of the options before him.  He could partake of this disgusting drink, and become intoxicated; or he could abstain and thus risk a planetary incident, which could trigger a civil war.  Quickly, he drank the _methú_ in a single gulp, in an unsuccessful attempt to swallow without tasting.  An abrupt fit of coughing immediately followed.  While the coughing soon subsided, the nauseated expression on his face did not.  It was only the extreme mental and physical discipline instilled by years of Jedi training which kept Obi-Wan from vomiting instantly.

A young Eutaktosian, a servant by his dress, ran up to Obi-Wan with a bin in his hands.  He quickly said something in his language with a sympathetic tone.

The stench of vomit and _methú_ coming from the well-used bin was making Obi-Wan’s plight worse, so he politely but insistently pushed it away.  “What’s he saying?” he gasped, his eyes still tearing from the coughing fit.

Qui-Gon translated, “He says not to worry, after the first seven or eight drinks, you usually stop vomiting.”

“Oh,” said Obi-Wan, not reassured.

Qui-Gon stepped between Obi-Wan and the Holo projector to spare his Padawan further embarrassment, by shielding him from the Council’s view.  “It’s an acquired taste,” he explained to the Council with a smile.

“So it seems,” agreed Mace Windu, dryly.  “But in any case, Qui-Gon, I must congratulate you for your excellent work.  You have succeeded beyond the Council’s expectations, and in exceptional time.  The Council would like a detailed report in which you explain how you accomplished this.”

Qui-Gon smiled.  “Thank you.  But as to the detailed report, it will have to wait, for some times are for reporting, and other times are for drinking.  Now is the time for _drinking_.”

He raised his goblet to them, and then promptly terminated the Holo.

 

 

 

As the image disappeared, Mace Windu was shaking his head in exasperation, but smiling in spite of himself.  Qui-Gon had somehow gotten away with it, _again,_ but this time he could not begrudge it to him.

 

 

 

Later that night, Obi-Wan felt himself nodding off, his eyes closing even as he struggled to keep them open.

His Master was busily talking with the _Anáx_ and the _Skiridai_ , and several other high-caste Eutaktosians who had come to talk with them.  Qui-Gon was speaking slowly but easily to his companions.  They seemed to understand him well enough despite his considerable mispronunciations, as human mouths could not make the wide range of sounds Eutaktosian mouthparts could make.

Obi-Wan felt irritated at his Master, who showed no inclination to retire.  He groaned when one of the Eutaktosians brought out a deck of cards, and they began to teach his Master the intricacies of one of their games.  _This could take all night_.

Qui-Gon said something to his companions, and apparently it was a good joke, for they laughed heartily and slapped him on the back.

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan and started to translate, but Obi-Wan indicated by a tired wave of his hand it was not necessary.

“Care to play?” Qui-Gon asked, indicating he should pull up his chair.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, tilting his head back so he could rest it against the wall.  He then closed his eyes.

“Obi-Wan,” his Master said, gently, after a moment.

“Yes, Master?”

“You do not have to stay up with me, if you are fatigued.  You can retire to your sleep-couch.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, rousing himself.

“No, I am fine,” he insisted.  Qui-Gon smiled to himself at his Padawan’s sleepy eyes, the whites shot with red.

Obi-Wan watched his Master play a few rounds, although he was too tired to follow the complicated rules.  The game involved cards of different colors and slapping them down with a lot of shouting.  He found himself grateful for the shouting, because otherwise he would have been unable to keep his eyes open.

He was not too tired to notice, however, how at ease his Master was, tossing back goblets of _methú_ , throwing down cards, and shouting out in Eutaktosian, all with enthusiasm.

_My Master is comfortable anywhere, among any people_ , thought Obi-Wan.

As the card came continued, Qui-Gon observed his Padawan sitting to the side, alone.

_My Padawan in uncomfortable anywhere among people he doesn’t know_ , thought Qui-Gon.

At the next round, Qui-Gon indicated to his companions, with a self-depreciating laugh, that in his old age he would need to call it a night.  His companions got up from the table, laughing, leaving Qui-Gon and his Padawan alone.

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan while absently shuffling the cards.  “A people’s games often lead to insight into their culture.  It is very revealing, in much the same way as their art.  Would you like to learn the game, Padawan?”

“Perhaps some other time, when I am not so tired.”

“Tired… or intoxicated?”

“Master!” Obi-Wan protested.  He sat up, suddenly awake.  “I only had one drink!”

“That would be more than enough to intoxicate _you_.  After all, you _did_ hold it down.”

Obi-Wan smiled, realizing by his Master’s light tone he had been teasing.

“There are few Jedi who have the control over themselves you do, Padawan.”  Qui-Gon shuffled the cards once again, and then put the deck on the table, all the while looking at his Padawan in silence.

“What is upsetting you?” Qui-Gon then asked, gently.

“Nothing, Master.”

“ _Obi-Wan…_ ”

_What does he want from me?  I answered him_.  Obi-Wan was irritated.  It could sometimes be uncomfortable to be close with Qui-Gon; his Master never accepted the surface meaning of words, but always probed for something deeper underneath.  “Why _would_ I be upset?  The mission is a success.”

Qui-Gon was disappointed.  His Padawan would not, or could not, be open to him.  _It is your fear of openness that makes you solitary.  Yet you believe **I** make you feel that way.  As if my openness to others could somehow diminish my connection to you.  But I will not press you._

“Perhaps I have done something, yet again, which does not fully meet with your approval?” Qui-Gon asked.  There was no sarcasm in his voice, only a gentle teasing.  He indicated the cards in front of him.  “I haven’t played for anything, this time.”  He then added, wryly, “I think I was mostly losing anyway.”  He frowned into his _methú_ goblet, as if considering too much drink had cost him the game.

Obi-Wan shook his head, “It is not my place to approve or to disapprove.  You are my Master.”

Qui-Gon laughed, “You never let it stop you before.”

Obi-Wan managed a smile at this.  “Well, to be honest, I _do_ have some concerns with how we succeeded with our mission.”

Qui-Gon drew his brows together, puzzled.  “But the solution was _your_ idea.”

“Yes… and no.”

“In what way?”

“Master, when I spoke to you about giving each caste its own symbolic power, I thought we could sit down with each side, show them their proper sphere of influence, and have them agree to a compromise.”

Qui-Gon indicated the drunken Eutaktosians at neighboring tables.  “This _is_ a compromise.”

“Yes, but Jedi are more than diplomats or negotiators.  The purpose of the Jedi is to teach and _enlighten_.  I do not think we have done that here.”

“Explain.”

“Master, when you spoke to each side, you did not attempt to demolish any of their prejudices.  In fact, you reinforced them.  First, you convinced the _Skiridai_ the concessions he made to the aristocracy were minor, and his caste’s religious privileges were the more important.  Then, you turned around and convinced the _Anáx_ _his_ concessions to the _Skiridai_ were minor, and the privileges of the _aristocracy_ were the more important.  At no time did you enlighten them how they could each serve their people best by confining their caste’s influence to their individual sphere, instead of struggling with each other over power.”

Qui-Gon laughed, “That is a succinct summary.”

Obi-Wan was not amused.  “ _And_ you implied to _both_ sides you agreed with their position.”

“Because I do… from a certain point of view.”

Obi-Wan shook his head.  “There is only one objective reality.”

Qui-Gon smiled, “Yes… from a certain point of view.”

Obi-Wan blew out his breath in exasperation.

His Master went on.  “In any case, we avoided a civil war.  _That_ is what is important.”

“The ends justify the means?  _That_ is a Sith teaching.”

Qui-Gon sighed, tiredly.  “Obi-Wan, what good is teaching a people not ready to receive a teaching?  You saw the trivial reasons the Eutaktosians were willing to die, and to kill, for.  We should be concerned with keeping these people from destroying themselves; in the hope someday they _can_ be enlightened.

“And unfortunately, Padawan, not all people are as logical as you are.  Sometimes I choose to appeal to a person’s prejudices because they are so much more powerful and enduring than any appeal to reason.”

“That _may_ be true.  But who can make the judgment another is incapable of reason?  That assumption, untested, is a prejudice all its own.”

“So you believe I could have enlightened the Eutaktosians?”

“I believe you should have at least _tried_.  But to assume you could not, without any evidence, is paternalistic.  And arrogant.”

At first Obi-Wan thought he had gone too far, because his Master looked at him sharply.  But he only said, “There might be something to what you say.  Do you have any other observations?”

“Yes.  I also think if we _had_ enlightened them, the better the chance this peace would be permanent.  Prejudices are very enduring, but are not useful tools for solving new problems.”

“That is true,” Qui-Gon said thoughtfully, and then fell silent.

Qui-Gon looked at the Eutaktosians still celebrating this newfound peace.  He was silent for so long Obi-Wan believed he had insulted his Master by his words.

“Master, I did not mean to offend you.  If I have, I apologize.”

Qui-Gon shook his head, “You spoke the truth as you see it.  If I am not entirely comfortable with that, the issue is my own.”  He looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes.  “This has been very… _enlightening_ to me.”

Qui-Gon then leaned forward, and added softly, “Do you know, Obi-Wan, why the Jedi have always kept to the custom of Master and Padawan?  It is because it is not always the _Master_ who does the teaching.”

“I thank you, Master.”

Qui-Gon was given pause by the formality of his Padawan’s response.  Obi-Wan still sat alone, quiet, and self-contained, expecting nothing.  _He answers as if my praise is enough.  But it is not._

Qui-Gon reached across the space between them, and rested his hand on Obi-Wan’s arm.

“It is not only your intelligence and insight I value, Padawan.  I value your friendship as well.  As Jedi we are to avoid attachment, but not closeness to others.  I am grateful for _our_ closeness, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan said nothing, as was often his way.  Instead, he looked up into his Master’s eyes, and smiled.  And although he often laughed and smiled at a joke, his face was usually closed.  But it was not so, now.  And whenever he smiled like this it took others by surprise, for it transformed his face from simply handsome to astonishingly beautiful, as it revealed deeper feelings inside him.  It seemed to Qui-Gon, if only for a moment, his Padawan’s blue eyes were not reflecting the half-light in the room, but had a luminescence all their own.

Qui-Gon smiled back at Obi-Wan.  It was impossible not to.

_And to think_ , Qui-Gon thought, shaking his head in disbelief, _I almost did not choose him as my Padawan_.

 

 


	2. Master Dooku selects a Padawan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon Jinn is in trouble...again. It is out of compassion, but this does not make his old Master, Dooku, feel any better about it. Dooku has chosen, however, a new Padawan...Obi-Wan Kenobi.

_Often it is said our true mission as Jedi is to bring enlightenment to those still in shadow.  This is true.  The Jedi [Knight] should never cease to be an idealist, for it is idealists who see what is possible out of the merely present._

_However, the ideal is a blade that cuts out all imperfections, and its edge is sharp.  Let us not forget to temper it with compassion.  We should seek to correct always out of love, and never out of arrogance, for such is the path to the [Dark]…_

                                                                                                     Jedi Master Eleus Helkor, Reflections on the Path

 

**Coruscant, 44 BBY**

Master Sifo-Dyas sat by the fountain in the temple gardens, soothed by the sound of water over stone.  Though his cup of Sapir tea was still too hot to drink, he gently held it in his hands, warming them with its heat.  As he got older he did not tolerate the chill as well, and the gardens were kept rather cool to reflect the changing of the seasons.  He would have suggested meeting Master Dooku for tea in a warmer room, but this was their usual meeting place.

While waiting patiently for his tea to cool he spotted his friend strolling across the gardens.  To Sifo-Dyas’ astonishment, Dooku looked happy, for there was a light spring to his step, and perhaps even the trace of a smile on his lips.

“You are in a good mood today,” Sifo-Dyas said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.  _He hasn’t heard yet?  Why didn’t anyone tell him?_ He poured his friend a fresh cup of Sapir tea.  _I cannot remember the last time I’ve seen him so pleased_.  _I’ll share in his happiness for a moment before upsetting him._

“I should be in a good mood,” Dooku said, while taking his seat with his usual feline grace.  He accepted his cup with a small polite bow of his head.  Every feature and movement of Dooku’s was graceful and elegant.  Though simply dressed, he was clearly the scion of aristocracy, bred for beauty over hundreds of years.  He appeared much younger than sixty-three, his finely chiseled and elegant features still remarkably handsome, and his thick hair gone to becoming silver.  Perhaps his most remarkable aspect was his large, liquid, and very dark eyes, which observed everything with intense interest and penetration.

Dooku took a few sips from his tea, unperturbed by its heat, refusing to answer his friend’s unspoken question.

“Well?” Syfo-Dyas finally asked.

“Well, what?” Dooku said, raising his silvery brows.

“Are you going to tell me, or shall I guess?”

Dooku smiled, a little.  “Guess, then.”

“You finished your commentary on those Ossus philosophy texts.”

“Those old things?  No.”

“That was all you could talk about for _months_.  I know, you have mastered some of the more difficult compositions on your Sansil.”

“Wrong again.  Who has time to practice?”

“Then I have no idea.  You will have to tell me.”

Dooku carefully sat his cup down, placing his fine boned hands on the table.  Leaning forward, he answered, “I believe I have found a new Padawan learner.”

Sifo-Dyas was truly shocked.  Dooku had frequently said he was no longer interested in training Padawans.  He had claimed he was too tired and too old, though Sifo-Dyas knew better.  His friend was endlessly disappointed by his Padawans.  He had even chosen to stop teaching youngling classes in the Temple.

“This is _wonderful_!  How did you find your new apprentice?”

“I was asked by Master Yoda to teach a philosophy class for Keimai, as he was out ill.  I, of course, told Master Yoda, ‘ _No_.’  He agreed I should not teach it if I did not want to, and the next thing I know, I’m half way through teaching the class.”

Sifo-Dyas laughed.  “Typical.  You _know_ you are in trouble when Master Yoda is quick to agree with you.”

“But in the class, there was this boy.  The quality and analytical power of his mind was truly astonishing.”  Dooku pulled a datapad from his pocket, and handed it to his friend.  “I uploaded his essay on ethics.”

 

_In the life of an individual Jedi, virtue is the only matter of importance.  Other matters, such as health, happiness, or possessions, are of no account.  Jedi are not to gather possessions, as possessions are not of import.  What are they, compared to virtue?  Even death is irrelevant.  Jedi may be killed, in service to others, but can die nobly, like true Jedi._

_Many rulers throughout the galaxy are thought of as powerful, but they merely have power over possessions and the physical body.  As these are not of consequence, these rulers do not truly have power over others.  Virtue, alone, is of importance, and rests entirely in the individual intellect.  To be virtuous is a choice, dependant only on the individual will.  Therefore, every Jedi has perfect freedom, exempt from any control others may wish to impose on them, provided he or she is liberated from mundane and distracting desires…_

 

“He seems highly idealistic,” Sifo-Dyas commented.

Dooku smiled at him, for his friend had deliberately commented on something very close to Dooku’s own heart.  “Yes.  And he is only twelve.  I thought perhaps he had not been chosen by a Master because of a lack of skill in the combat arts.  I went to watch his class at their lightsaber drills.  And to the contrary, I was favorably impressed.”  Dooku laughed.  “More than impressed.  Not only does he naturally have exceptional physical skills, he has a gift for strategy of someone twice his age.  I watched him defeat stronger and more experienced opponents due to his analysis of their technique.”

“He does sound impressive.”

“And, most importantly, I did not see any signs of arrogance, as is often the case in one so young.  I asked his instructors.  They said he is always calm, without pride or anger.  An exceptional boy, in every way.”

“I am happy for you, my friend.”  Sifo-Dyas tapped the name on the essay with his finger.  “I think I know this boy.  Is he the one small for his age, not much of a talker, with blond hair, and a handsome face?”

Dooku nodded.

“It will be a good match for him, as well.  I’ve heard several Masters were discouraged from selecting him since he would surpass them long before becoming a Knight.”

Sifo-Dyas diplomatically did _not_ add these same Masters were also concerned the boy was aloof and unfeeling.  _Dooku would be a good master for this boy, as those qualities do not concern him._ “Have you told him he is chosen?”

“No, not yet.  I wanted you to be the first to hear the good news.  Especially since you are so patient with all my complaints.”

“That’s what friends do.  Besides, your criticisms have helped me keep a proper perspective while sitting on the Jedi Council.”

Dooku shook his head, laughing at himself.  “Listen to me!  I have been monopolizing this entire conversation.  You said in your message you wanted to tell _me_ something, and here you let me go on and on without protest.  You once again show your skills at patience, my friend.  What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“It’s about Qui-Gon.”

“Qui-Gon?  What trouble has he caused now?” Dooku asked, exasperated.

“We haven’t yet received a report directly from Qui-Gon, but on the HoloNet—”

“He is on it _again_?  This is why I do _not_ watch the HoloNet.  What was it _this_ time?  Has he locked _another_ ambassador into a trash compactor?  Or has he once _again_ gotten the Head of the Intergalactic Banking Clan publicly intoxicated on lomiin-ale?  No, _let_ me guess.  He competed in yet _another_ Podrace on Malastare.”

“Dooku, this time Qui-Gon has gone too far.”

“What do you mean, ‘too far’?  Just tell me.”

“He overthrew the government of the planet Kakuno.”

Dooku sat for a moment in stunned silence.  Then he closed his eyes, and sighed.  “Has he returned to Coruscant?”

“No, he should be back later this evening.  I am sorry, Dooku.  The Council will be discussing the incident during this afternoon’s session.  I had wanted to let you know I will be doing everything I can to influence the Council to be lenient towards Qui-Gon.  I did not know I would have to be the one to tell you about this, as well.”

Dooku squeezed his eyes tightly, as if preparing to receive a blow.  “He is to be disciplined by the Council, then?”

“Yes.  As soon as he returns to the Temple he is to appear before the Council to receive judgment.”  Sifo-Dyas leaned over the table and placed a kindly hand on Dooku’s arm.

Dooku opened his eyes, but he did not look at his friend, but distantly into the waters of the fountain.  “It is _not_ that I am ashamed of having been his Master,” Dooku said, very softly.  “Despite all… of _this_ , I am _not_ ashamed of him.  It is just that… he did not become the Jedi I trained him to be.”

“Do Padawans ever?”  _Even though it has been over twenty years since Qui-Gon became a Knight, it still hurts him_.

“It’s more than that.”  Dooku looked back at Sifo-Dyas and laughed, mirthlessly.  “I swear I _never_ understood him, not even as a boy.  And he was always stubborn as a rock underneath.  I could never touch him, not really.  In some way, I… I failed him.”

“He is a credit to the Order.  And to _you_.”

“Do you know, I believe he could have been the _greatest_ among the Jedi, if only I could have taught him to see what was important, instead of concerning himself with insignificants?”

“He _is_ a great Jedi.”

“Yes,” Dooku agreed bitterly.  “But I raised him to _liberate_ the entire galaxy.  Instead, he’s entertainment on the HoloNet, doing _nonsense_ for pathetic life forms unworthy of his notice.  I taught him _nothing._ ”

Sifo-Dyas was pained to see his friend suddenly look like an old man.  Dooku’s body was weary and burdened with the weight of old disappointments, and old hurts.

Dooku saw Sifo-Dyas watching him.  With great effort, Dooku took a moment to find control.  When he spoke again, his voice was its usual even and steady tone.  “What do you know of this incident?”

Sifo-Dyas took out his datapad and transferred some files to Dooku’s.  “There is not much information, as the news broke late last night.  This is all we have.”

“Thank you, I would like to read it.”

“I assumed you would.”  Sifo-Dyas returned the datapad to Dooku, who then delicately placed it on the table in front of him.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Sifo-Dyas asked.

“No.  If you don’t mind, old friend, I need some time alone.  To read this and gather my thoughts.”

“I understand.”  Sifo-Dyas rose to leave.

Dooku looked at the datapad.  The screen now listed the files regarding Qui-Gon, and the boy’s essay, side by side.  “Perhaps,” Dooku said, quietly, “with this new Padawan, it will be different.”

“I hope so,” said Sifo-Dyas.  He gently patted his friend’s shoulder before departing.

 

 

 

In the halls of the Jedi Temple, the dying light shone through the windows with an ominous glow.  Master Yoda, in his hover chair, floated down the long hallway, concerned with the meeting ahead.  It was days such as this he felt his 900 years.  In his time on the Council there had been other disciplinary meetings.  But with Qui-Gon, it was different.

“Greetings, Master Yoda.”

At the sound of his name, Yoda turned towards his former Padawan.  “As well, to you, Dooku.  Thank you I must for the favor you did.  Heard did I your teaching in the philosophy class most excellent was.  Convince you must I, younglings again to teach.”

“I _did_ enjoy it.  More than I thought I would.”

Yoda looked at him, perceptively.  “More than in one way, did you, I sense.”

“Yes.  I would like to take one of the younglings as my new Padawan.”

Yoda was surprised, but pleased.  “Ahh!  Moved the immovable Master Dooku a youngling has.  Which one pick, will you?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

This name gave Yoda pause, although the choice of such a youngling should have been obvious.  “Kenobi?  Interesting your choice is.  Yes, see why want him you do.  _Powerful_ Jedi he will be.  But Dooku, thought you said, done you were with Padawans.”

“I was, until I met this boy.  He is exceptional.”

Yoda said nothing, twisting his gimmer stick in his hand while looking thoughtfully at Dooku.  The handle of his stick had been polished glossy and smooth from years of handling it this way while deep in thought.  Yoda did not ask any questions, but as the silence lengthened, it seemed an answer was required of Dooku.  This empty silence was a particular trick of Yoda’s, but even knowing this Dooku felt compelled to speak.

Dooku then admitted something he would not have admitted to anyone save his former Master.  “I believe Obi-Wan can become the perfect Jedi.”

Yoda snorted.  “ _Always_ perfection you seek.”

Dooku smiled.  “I confess I am an idealist.  Although that is not much of a confession, as you know me so well.”

Yoda shook his head.  “Idealists sometimes blinded are to what impossible is.”

“That is how we are different, Master.  I think all things are possible.”

“Have _that_ in common with Qui-Gon you do.”

Dooku’s expression at Qui-Gon’s name said much to Yoda.  _Not the only Jedi troubled am I._ “Know do you?”

“Yes.  Although evidentially I _was_ the last to know.”

“Looking for him, were you?”

“Actually, I was looking for you.  May I accompany you to the meeting?”

“What purpose have you?  Unpleasant it will be.”

“I wish to attend.”

Yoda shrugged.  “Ask Qui-Gon you must, if allow it he will.”

Dooku nodded.  He walked in silence with his former Master, saying nothing for a few minutes.  Finally, he asked, hesitantly, “Do you believe I failed him?”

Yoda looked at him kindly.  “No.  Great Jedi Qui-Gon is.  From following his feelings his flaws come, which strongly he feels.  To overcome this, perfect example were you.  Believe I do, learn will he, and follow you more closely he will.”

Dooku said nothing, but he was not consoled.

By this time they had come to the doors of the Council chamber.  Yoda stopped his hover chair before the doorway so they could speak a moment before going in.  “Leave you now I must.  Stay you will if Qui-Gon allows.”

“I imagine he will have no objection,” Dooku wryly said, for he had seen Qui-Gon chastised more times than he cared to remember.

Yoda understood what he meant.

 

 

 

Dooku entered the High Council Chamber, but stopped just inside the doorway.  Inside, the Masters were talking in low voices among themselves before the session began.  Sifo-Dyas, upon seeing Dooku, excused himself to talk with his friend privately.

“Dooku, are you sure you would like to be here for this?”

“No,” Dooku said tiredly.  “But I don’t feel I have much choice.”

“I understand.”

“And where _is_ Qui-Gon, anyway?”

“He is currently in the meditation chamber, but he will be brought forward once the session begins.”

“When you met this afternoon, did you discuss possible punishments?”

Sifo-Dyas hesitated.  “Yes.”

“Will he be expelled from the order?”

“It is possible… but I do not think it likely.  There were a few heated comments about expulsion, but they were not the majority opinion.  I am guessing the most likely punishment is five years suspension.  No missions.  His sole responsibility would be to teach the younglings in the Temple.”

“Five _years_?”  Dooku smacked a clenched fist into his other hand.  “That would _destroy_ him.  This _cannot_ be happening.”

Sifo-Dyas’ vivid green eyes were soft with sympathy.  “I will do my best, although I can promise nothing.”

“I know,” Dooku said.  “But thank you.”

At that moment, the newest Council member, Master Mace Windu, with the formal words of convocation, called the meeting to order.  “Let the meeting begin, Masters.  And the Force speak through us.”

As the Masters took their seats, a side door opened and Qui-Gon entered the Council chamber and strode to the center of the room.

Dooku hardly recognized Qui-Gon when he saw him.  As Dooku often did not see his former Padawan for a year or more, he was surprised to find Qui-Gon had been growing his dark hair very long, for it now hung past his shoulders.  It was not a usual style for Jedi Masters.  _Leave it to Qui-Gon to always find a way to be eccentric_.  But even Dooku had to concede it suited Qui-Gon well, softening the hard angularity of his face.

Other than that, Qui-Gon looked as he always did, his posture relaxed and at ease.  He did not look like a Jedi Master about to be disciplined by the Council.  Although he must have known he was in serious trouble, it did not concern him.

_Perhaps it should concern you, Qui-Gon_.

As if he had heard his old Master, Qui-Gon looked directly at him.  He nodded to his former Master in greeting.

Dooku quickly walked up next to Qui-Gon.

Yoda gazed at the Master and his former Padawan.  “Master Dooku, something to say do you before begins the Council meeting?”

“Yes, thank you, Master Yoda.  I apologize for my being presumptuous in coming before the Council, but I would like to observe this meeting, if Qui-Gon does not mind.”

“Qui-Gon?” Yoda asked.

“I do not mind, Master Yoda.”  Qui-Gon then turned to Dooku, smiling.  “This is an old habit of yours.”

Dooku did not return his smile, but inclined his head.

“Then witness this meeting shall you,” Yoda decided.

“Thank you for your indulgence.”  Dooku then walked back to stand by the Council door, the lone audience to the session.

From his vantage point, Dooku unobtrusively observed the Masters surrounding his former Padawan.  He hoped for open expressions on their faces, but for the most part he was disappointed.  Sifo-Dyas, naturally, and also Yaddle, seemed willing to listen.  Unfortunately for Qui-Gon, the majority was regarding him with obvious disapproval.  A few, including Yoda, had expressions that were unreadable.

Among this last group was the recently elected Head of the Jedi Council, Master Za’kalles, chosen despite her young age of thirty-five.  Her stunning Twi’lek face, with the complexion of the rare Lethan blue, was offset with the plainness of her modest Jedi robes.  This style was unlike that of other Twi’lek female Jedi, who went scantily clad to follow Twi’lek custom, for Za’kalles was strictly devoted to the Jedi way of chastity.  Yet the robes could not conceal the lithe grace of her body, or distract from her perfect features.

However, these features, although delicate, belaid impressive strength of will, and her turquoise eyes flashed wit and intelligence.  These eyes looked searchingly at Qui-Gon for a sense of remorse.  Qui-Gon simply looked back at her, waiting for her to speak.

“Master Qui-Gon,” she began, “we are here to discuss your actions on Kakuno.  The Council believes you have acted wrongly in this matter.

“The legally recognized and elected government of Kakuno made a request of the Senate to send Jedi for the purpose of arresting terrorists threatening the government’s stability.  The Council ordered you to Kakuno to achieve this.

“Since you are somewhat _lax_ in reporting to the Council, we were _mistakenly_ not concerned when we did not receive a single report from you.  However, while we did not have the _pleasure_ of receiving a report from _you_ , we did have the _interesting_ experience of learning from the HoloNet you caused the collapse of the Kakuno government.

“As a result of your actions, there is great civil unrest, as factions from the previous regime are still attempting to regain control.  While there has not been an armed conflict, war is still possible.  As this is, essentially, a domestic matter, there is little the Senate, or the Jedi Order, can do, without officially taking sides.

“As the Senate formally recognized the old regime, Senator Chion claims he is still the representative of Kakuno.  However, this did not stop the new regime from sending their own representative, Senator Hapsis.

“Senator Chion has filed an official complaint against the Jedi Order.  His latest motion calls for a criminal prosecution, with you and the Jedi Council as defendants.  Senator Hapsis has filed a motion for you to receive a special commendation from the Senate.  _Thankfully,_ he has agreed to drop the portion of his motion calling for a statue in your likeness erected outside the Senate building.

“The Senate is not only debating these contradictory motions, they can not agree upon who is the rightful representative of Kakuno, and thus _able_ to file a motion in the first place.  The Senate has attempted to resolve this dilemma by vote.  But they cannot vote on this, or _any_ , issue.  When a motion is put forward for vote, two votes are cast for Kakuno.  _Unsurprisingly_ , the Senate cannot agree upon whose vote should be counted.  The Senate is now paralyzed, as they cannot vote on a single motion.

“It is safe to say the Senate does not consider your mission an unqualified success, with the exception of Senator Hapsis.

“Since the reports on the HoloNet imply you acted with the orders of the Jedi Council, in direct defiance of the Senate, our relationship with the Senate is at the breaking point.  Though you have publicly attempted to take full and sole responsibility, no one believes a lone Jedi would be so _rebellious,_ and so _stupid,_ as to undertake such actions without _at least_ consulting the Jedi Council.”  Her head tails twitched at these last remarks.

There was complete silence in the Jedi Council chamber, as no one had ever seen Za’kalles come this close to losing her composure.

After pausing to collect herself, she continued.  “Master Qui-Gon, do you dispute these problems are consequences of your actions?”

“No, I do not,” Qui-Gon calmly replied.

“Do you dispute the allegation you acted inappropriately on Kakuno?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What _possible_ justification do you have?”

“It was the will of the Living Force.”

Za’kalles face was incredulous.  “The Living Force willed you to overthrow the government of Kakuno?”

“No.”

“You cannot have it both ways,” she snapped, losing her patience.  “Either you followed the will of the Living Force, or you did not.”

“The Living Force wanted me to stop the atrocities that were occurring,” Qui-Gon corrected her, mildly.  “And _I_ thought the best way to stop it was to end the government ordering them.”

Za’kalles sighed.  “Your intention to prevent atrocities and crimes against the Force are admirable, and not in dispute.  It is your judgment we question.  Thus, you will now explain your actions.”

Qui-Gon’s voice was calm and steady, as if he was recounting a routine report.  “Upon arriving on Kakuno, I met with the President, President Hazomai.  He detailed the violence which was threatening the stability of his government.”

“And what did he explain to you?” Za’kalles asked.

“While all Kakueans are human, there have been deep, and sometimes violent, divisions over religion.  For centuries, the Keiruru majority had persecuted the Dioko minority.  This included economic deprivation, denial of education, and outright slaughter.

“Seventy-one years ago there was a change of dogma from the Keiruru priests, declaring these persecutions to violate religious law.  However, it is only within the past ten years the Dioko have been seen as equal citizens.

“President Hazomai is a member of the minority Dioko, and is the first Dioko to hold a high position in the government.  He claimed Keiruru, who disagreed with the new dogma, and refusing to be governed by a Dioko, were bombing the homes and assassinating governmental officials to force President Hazomai to resign.”

“Did you believe him?”

“I sensed through the Force he was telling the truth as he saw it.  Yet, I also sensed there was something _wrong_ , although I could not determine what that could be.  I asked the President to show me the sites of the attacks.  Somewhat to my surprise, I was able to completely reconcile my investigations with the official reports.”

“What happened next?”

“Military intelligence had determined the location of the terrorists’ stronghold.  The compound contained not only the terrorists and non-combative supporters, but their families as well, including young children.  They wanted me to plan, and then lead, the military assault, with the goal of minimizing loss of life on both sides.”

“Was there an assault?”

“No.  I never planned it.  When I returned that evening to my assigned suite, I acted on my earlier feelings of unease.  There was something else I needed to discover.”

“What did you do?”

“I took the opportunity of night to sneak out of the Presidential Palace, so I could investigate the city unescorted.”

“‘ _Sneak out_?’  Why, were you a prisoner?” Za’kalles sarcastically asked.

“I felt it might cause an incident if I asked to wander around the city on my own.”

Za’kalles shook her head.  “Why couldn’t that concern you _later_?”

Qui-Gon ignored that remark, and went on.  “I walked around the city, letting myself be guided by the Living Force.  I was led to a place of great suffering, which was the prison complex.  The agony I sensed through the Force was unbearable.  I then broke into the prison.”

“You broke _into_ a prison?”

Qui-Gon shrugged.  “Well, it’s a lot easier to break _into_ a prison than to break _out_.  It did not take long to find the prisoners who had been tortured.  They were members of the terrorist organization I had been sent to apprehend.  Their bodies had been broken to obtain the information I was to use in planning the assault.  From them I learned the _true_ situation on Kakuno.

“When President Hazomai was first elected, there _were_ a few Keiruru extremists who chose terrorism over being governed by a Dioko, as the President had described.  One of these bombings came within a few feet of killing President Hazomai himself.  Though these terrorists were quickly apprehended, the near miss left the President unbalanced.  He was convinced there was a widespread Keiruru plot to overthrow his government and reinstitute the persecutions of the Dioko.

“President Hazomai then assumed control of the legislature and military through a bloody coup.  This was declared to be legal by the new legislature, whose members were appointed by the President, and consisted of Dioko who had been waiting for a chance to punish their former oppressors.  President Hazomai then passed a series of ‘reforms.’  These entailed the systematic placing of Keirurus in detention camps, as well as the torture and execution of _any_ who challenged his regime.  It is unknown how many perished, but the most recent tally is in the millions.

“The ‘terrorists’ I had been sent to arrest were attempting to stop the atrocities.  All of their targets were directly responsible for the death and torture of innocent Kakueans.”

“Did you believe these prisoners?”

“Through the Force, I knew they were telling the truth.”

“If this was the case, why would President Hazomai ask the Jedi to help minimize loss of life?”

“Despite his insanity, he _is_ an idealist, and conceives of himself as kind and merciful.  To his way of thinking, he only punished the guilty.”

“Master Qui-Gon, up until this point it is clear you followed the mandate you had been given.  However, with this new information, your mandate could no longer guide you.  How did you then proceed?”

“I broke them out of prison, of course.”

“You broke them out of prison.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but smile a little.  “It _was_ harder to break out than it was to break in.”

“I can imagine.  So what did you do then?”

“I decided to assist the ‘terrorists.’”

“‘ _Assist_ ’?  You are far _too_ modest.  Published reports claim you were their ‘glorious leader.’”

“Well, I _did_ try to refuse.”

“Not hard enough.  With these developments, you did not see the need to contact us?”

“It _did_ occur to me.  However, I did not have a secure HoloTransmitter.”

“ _Convenient._ What was your next move?”

“I engaged in aggressive negotiations with President Hazomai.”

Za’kalles looked at him, suspiciously.  “What do you mean ‘aggressive negotiations’?”

“Negotiations with a lightsaber.”

Za’kalles did not find this definition amusing.  “What, _exactly_ , did you do?”

“I broke into the Presidential Palace and convinced him to resign.”

“ _You forced him to resign_?”

“No.  I did not _force_ him to resign.  I merely explained the situation.  I told him if he did not choose to resign, I would leave.  However, I _also_ informed him I had not come alone, but accompanied by several revolutionaries particularly interested in making his acquaintance.  I also mentioned his security system was mysteriously malfunctioning.  He resigned.”

“And _this_ was the optimal solution?”

“Yes.  No other course of action would have immediately and permanently stopped the atrocities.”

Yoda responded, “So sure you are?”

“Yes, I am.  The atrocities had to end as quickly as possible.”

“Disputing that we are not.”

Za’kalles elaborated.  “During the ‘aggressive negotiations,’ you _could_ have seized the government and contacted the Council to discuss the situation with us.  We would have sent an emergency team of Jedi to assist you.  In fact, Master Vagus and his Padawan were in a nearby system, and could have been there in a few hours.  This would have prevented the _disaster_ you caused.”

“The _politics_ were not my greatest concern,” Qui-Gon answered, quietly.

Za’kalles’ eyes widened at the reproach.  “ _Master_ Qui-Gon, is there anything else you would like to add before the Council makes its decision?”

With this, Dooku knew Qui-Gon had lost.

“No.  I have nothing to add,” Qui-Gon answered.

“Master Za’kalles,” Dooku abruptly called to the Council Head, “May I be allowed to speak?”

Za’kalles raised an eyebrow.  “Master Dooku, this is highly irregular, but I will allow it if no one has an objection.”  She looked to the other Council Members, but no one indicated an opposition.  “Master Qui-Gon, do you object?”

Dooku looked towards his former Padawan.

“As you wish,” Qui-Gon said.

Dooku strode into the center of the room to once again stand besides Qui-Gon.

“Master, what _are_ you doing?” Qui-Gon said under his breath so only Dooku could hear.

“Saving your stubborn and contrary neck,” Dooku said, equally softly in return, but his black eyes flashed.

Dooku turned towards the expectant Masters.  He took a deep breath, and began.  “Masters, I had no intention of speaking before you today, only to stand with Qui-Gon as he received judgment.  In the manner of any Master towards his Padawan, I am concerned for his well-being.

“I find, however, I must speak for him.  Not in _defense_ , Masters, for I cannot defend his actions.  My former Padawan has always been too headstrong, too reckless, and too emotional.  Many times he has done things inexplicable to me, inspired by the Living Force.  Not just inexplicable.  Annoying.  _Infuriating_.

“All of which he revealed by his rash actions on Kakuno.

“However, I will remind you of the Jedi adage, ‘Right thought leads to right action, one is Padawan to the other.’  It is clear Qui-Gon’s only concern was ending the atrocities he witnessed.  His intentions were only for the good, and he did not take a single life.  His actions were just, and in accord with the Jedi Code.

“This is not to say Qui-Gon should not be chastised.  A Jedi Master must use _wisdom_ along with intent.  All consequences must be considered.  This is where he failed, for the consequences of his rash actions were foreseeable.

“Therefore, I would like to suggest the Council place him on probation for one year.  This would require him to report to a senior Master prior to undertaking any action not explicitly sanctioned by the Council.  Qui-Gon would also report to this Master upon arrival at his assignments, upon completion of his missions, as well as weekly progress reports.

“In addition, I would like to ask the Council to appoint me as the Master supervising Qui-Gon’s probation.”

At Dooku’s last recommendation, the Council members exchanged looks with one another, in some astonishment.  Qui-Gon, startled by his words, turned his head so he could regard his Master.

“Master Dooku, I must admit I am surprised by your request.”  Za’kalles then looked over to Yoda, silently deferring to his wisdom and experience.

Yoda, sensing the feelings of the other Masters, spoke the Council’s decision.  “Master Dooku, your responsibility Qui-Gon again shall be.  Qui-Gon, learn from your former Master you shall.  More to teach you, he still has.  Great Jedi you are, but mindful of the future you must be.  Save others from suffering you can, but through thoughtless action, more suffering cause can you.  A path to the Dark Side this is.”

Qui-Gon bowed deeply.  “I understand, Master Yoda.”

Za’kalles curtly nodded, and said, “ _Good._ May the Force be with you.”

And with that dismissal, Dooku and Qui-Gon departed the Council chamber.

 

 

 

The moment the door closed behind them, Dooku snapped, “How could you be so _stupid_?”

Instead of responding defensively, Qui-Gon laughed.  As always, his response was never what was expected.

This never failed to infuriate Dooku.  “You _may_ think it is amusing your total and complete idiocy almost got you expelled from the Jedi Order.  But _I_ do not!”

Qui-Gon silenced his Master by putting a hand on his arm.  He was no longer laughing.  “Master, thank you.”

_He makes it difficult to stay angry with him.  But I will not let him charm me so easily. **This** time.  _“It is the responsibility of the Master to protect the Padawan.  Even those who are _stubborn_ and _contrary_.  Couldn’t you at least _pretend_ to be contrite?”

Qui-Gon shook his head.  “I refuse to lie.”

Dooku rolled his eyes.  “Aren’t _you_ the one who always talks about ‘a certain point of view’?”

“To pretend remorse I do not feel is a lie.”

“So you _still_ think you were in the right?”

Qui-Gon thought for a moment.  “Perhaps my solution _was_ less than ideal,” he finally admitted.

“Less than ideal?  _Less than ideal_?  You single handedly caused the collapse of a planetary government, paralyzed the Senate, and made it seem the Jedi Order is in outright rebellion against the Republic, and it’s ‘less than ideal’?”

“Yes.”

“I should have let them kick you out!” Dooku angrily exclaimed.

Qui-Gon met his eyes.  “Master, it is not your fault.”

Dooku was completely taken aback by his words.  As always, his former Padawan wielded his words as a lightsaber, cutting through all incidentals to the deepest heart of the matter.  It was impossible to conceal anything from him.

“You trained me well.  But we were never alike.  I must have been _insufferable_ to you.”

“You are insufferable _now_ ,” Dooku grumbled.

“You are _not_ responsible for my failings, Master.  They are, unfortunately, all mine.”

Dooku looked at his former Padawan for a moment.  Qui-Gon Jinn, the hero of hundreds of missions, praised throughout the galaxy, lauded over the HoloNet.  And the bitterest of Dooku’s disappointments.

Dooku burst out in frustration, “If only you were not so stubborn and looked at the larger issues!  Don’t you know I always saw your potential for true greatness?  I see it _now_.  Between us, we could reform the galaxy; change it into what it _should_ be.  If only…”

“…I did not distract myself with unworthy causes?” Qui-Gon finished for him.  He slowly shook his head, but he smiled.  “That is _your_ path, Master.  Not mine.  I cannot follow you.”  This was always Qui-Gon’s answer.

It was their old argument, repeated a thousand times, repeated a thousand more, and changing nothing.

Dooku closed his eyes; his hands were clenched into tight fists from the familiar pain.

Qui-Gon put his hand, again, on his Master’s arm, and gently rested it there so his Master would open his eyes and look at him.  “But know, for the love I have for you, I _would_ follow you on that path, if I were able.”  Then he added, encouragingly, “And, besides, perhaps someday I _will_ come around to your point of view.”  At Dooku’s expression, Qui-Gon shrugged, “Anything is possible.”

“No you _won’t._   But I appreciate the sentiment, anyway.”  Dooku managed to smile a little _.  I can never stay angry with him.  Not even if he deserves it._

They both fell silent, not wanting to ruin this comfortable moment between them.  It was something they had rarely shared.  There was too much rejection and disappointment dividing them.

Qui-Gon finally spoke.  “Master, I am glad you volunteered to supervise my probation.  Perhaps this is an opportunity to see each other more often.”

“So it is,” Dooku agreed.

“Would you care to join me for a meal?  I can prepare it.  It’s the least I owe you.”

“I would like that.”

They started towards Qui-Gon’s room in the Temple.

“One of the benefits of even a _stubborn_ and _contrary_ Padawan,” Qui-Gon joked.  “You never have to make your own meals.”

Dooku couldn’t help but laugh.

Qui-Gon suggested, “Perhaps you should consider training another Padawan.  One less unruly than me.”

Dooku suddenly stopped.  “Your insight still impresses me.  In fact, I _do_ have another Padawan learner in mind.”

Qui-Gon looked at him in surprise.  “I thought you were—”

“Done with Padawans?  I _know_.  But this boy is different.”

“I am sure he is _unlike_ me as possible,” Qui-Gon said, smiling.

“Not in skill, but yes, in personality.  He is very calm, reserved, and _obedient_ ,” Dooku answered, raising his eyebrows at that last adjective.

Qui-Gon disregarded the implication.  “Better you than me, Master.  He sounds _irritating_.”

“Perhaps you might think so,” Dooku admitted.  “But what about _you_?”

“What _about_ me?”

“It has been a few years since you have taken a Padawan.  And you have no excuse of being old, as I do.”

“The Force has not lead me to a Padawan.”

Dooku looked at Qui-Gon, shaking his head in disapproval.  “Not that you have been looking, either.  Why do I suspect it is because you would rather go on your _adventures_ , instead of fulfilling your responsibility as a Jedi Master?”

For once, Qui-Gon was embarrassed by his Master’s scrutiny.  “It is a lot easier to follow the Living Force if I do not have to worry about a young one.  Besides, after Kakuno, do you _really_ think the Council would want me to take another Padawan?”

“Maybe a Padawan would keep you out of trouble.  Then again, I don’t think anyone could keep _you_ out of trouble.  But it _is_ your responsibility as a Jedi Master to train Padawans.”

Qui-Gon made an exasperated sound.  “I _promise_ I will consider it.  Come Master, how does fresh phasianos sound?”

“It sounds delicious,” Dooku answered as they resumed their walk together.

 


End file.
